"The Returnee..."

We are in the middle of a roller coaster of transition. We left Uganda on 1st July, and travelled to visit Dan's family in America... Now we arrive in England, where I have not lived since 1992, almost twenty years ago... I left young free and single, and return with an American husband and two children, aged 11 and 9... I hope to describe the experiences of "the Returnee", with, no doubt, flashbacks to our African life, and commentary from my children along the way...

Monday, 30 July 2012

A taste of the future?

We are having a funny peculiar week - our children have gone. They are staying at my parents', for a whole seven days! Because my job carries on through the summer holidays, Mum offered to have the children stay for a while to cover some of my work days - not purely altruistically but, it is also hard work for her! But they are all very happy, and surviving. It is one of the benefits of moving back home, moving back within grandparental reach - and it is a good one.

We feel so strange because in the past we have left Abby and Alex with other families and friends, while we ourselves went away - but we have never stayed at home while they went away. It is actually bliss to eat supper in front of the TV and watch what we want to watch, and to get up for breakfast when we want to, rather than when Alex begins to starve noisily and digest his insides... It is peaceful... and restful... Dan says I am not a born mother. But, I know some of you will relate.

But also, I MISS them! Alex's funniness, Abigail's sweetness and little chats, the hugs, the piano playing, the giggles. But I don't miss the arguments, the fuming, the computer sounds, the scooter and waveboard lying in every corner of the kitchen I need to get to. But, it will be good to have them back...

Anyway, we took advantage of the weekend and went away, the two of us and Frodo, to the Brecon Beacons, across the border in Wales. Wales is part of us but a separate country as well, with its own ways, scenery, and language.


That town is pronounced Boolck. I believe. We called it Belch though.

We stayed in a gorgeous cottage B and B, with fabulous views from the windows of our room.




And a beautiful sunset - almost African.

On the Saturday morning we blithely picked a seven-mile hike, up the highest of the Black Mountains, called Waun Fach (pronounced Wine Vaack)... The scenery was out of this world, the sheep were fluffy, the hillsides were green, the sky was blue, Frodo was in heaven. We all got new hairstyles in the powerful wind that blew up on the hilltops. Gliders were whooshing past us with gentle sighs, sometimes below our eye-level. It was exhilarating and fabulous.

But at a certain point I discovered that one can't sit around and eat chocolate for nine months, and then expect to leap and bound up a Welsh mountain like a gazelle after all... I came over "all funny", when we were almost at the top - but we still had a climb and then about two hours more walking to get down again... I had to have a lie-down, twice. I came out all over in freezing sweat, and my legs went first heavy and then useless, and Dan nearly had to call the helicopters! It was actually scary and I began to feel panicky, which was unfortunate. It was worse than getting short of breath and achy legs. It was kind of systemic. I must be wildly unfit.

Anyway, thankfully, with Dan's calming presence, and the thought of cups of tea and a bath sustaining me, and with the help of a bar of chocolate which a couple passing by kindly gave me, and after two good lie-downs, I made it on and down without the help of the rescue services!












On Sunday we wended our way back home via Hay-on-Wye, the town of books (a town stuffed full of second-hand book shops, where there are posters saying the Kindle is banned there!), and then Hereford which is a beautiful historic town.

And so back to the Olympics and all Team GBs near-misses...






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